


Wait for me (to come home)

by sweetstrawberryheadache



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Exes to Lovers, First Love, Flashbacks, Fluff, Louis' POV, M/M, Meeting Again, Niall is passing through, Only a one year gap btwn them, Recreational Drug Use, i'm sorry son, same for Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetstrawberryheadache/pseuds/sweetstrawberryheadache
Summary: "Harry looks nothing like the teenager Louis fell in love with, and yet Louis has no doubt that this is his Harry. He may have traded the bow ties for the colourful shirts, and the pair of converse for expensive loafers, but his smile, God, his smile is still the same. Louis is mesmerized, completely captivated by this man he used to know so well."Three times Louis sees Harry but can't reach out. The fourth time, it's Harry who finds him.





	Wait for me (to come home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evelynemesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynemesis/gifts).



> Happy birthday @Evenise ! I'm so sorry it took me so long to write this. I hope you'll like it <3 
> 
> @dimpled_halo: Thank you so much for being my beta, you rock! As always! 
> 
> I wrote this while listening to Littlest things by Lily Allen, in case you wanna set the mood ^^
> 
> Aaaand, this fic is a complete work of fiction. Do not send it to anyone even remotely related to the boys and/or post it somewhere else. Unless you want me to change my identity and move to Argentina.
> 
> Happy reading :)

**The first time** Louis sees him again, he’s dancing his troubles away, body relentlessly grinding against the stranger plastered to his back. The temperature in the club is hardly bearable, his fringe is stuck to his forehead, and he can feel droplets of sweat slowly running down his spine and in between his pecs. Still, it’s a cold shiver that runs through his body when he spots him. Louis is drunk, yes, but he recognizes him instantly, would recognize him anywhere, even after all this time.

It’s like now that he sees him, everything else is slowly fading away. His eyes can’t leave him for a second, as if he’d disappear into thin air if Louis dared to even blink. Louis barely notices when the man dancing against him slips a hand under his shirt and rests it on his stomach. His palm is flat against his abs, fingers brushing and tickling the skin above Louis’ happy trail. Louis doesn’t even know which song is playing, he doesn’t care really, but it is deafening. He’d like for it to stop now so his brain can appreciate in silence how he has changed over the six years they spent apart.

Harry is leaning against the bar, elbows on the counter and big hands framing his face, chatting up the pretty bartender. His hair is shorter than Louis remembers, perhaps less curly, but the locks look soft even from this distance. Louis wants to feel them under his fingertips, wants to know if he still uses the strawberry shampoo and the coconut conditioner he used to love so much. He’s wearing a floral shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark blue jeans that make him look like a dad somehow, but a hot dad? Louis is drunk and confused.

He looks nothing like the teenager Louis fell in love with, and yet there's no doubt this is Harry. He may have traded the bow ties for the colourful shirts, and the pair of converse for expensive loafers, but his smile, God, his smile is still the same. Louis is mesmerized, completely captivated by this man he used to know so well, who’s flirting with a completely charmed bartender.

 _No wonder he is_ , Louis thinks as he keeps dancing with whatever his name is, body on autopilot as he moves his hips expertly. The guy behind him murmurs praises, his beard scratching uncomfortably against Louis’ sensitive skin, but Louis can’t for the life of him repeat what the man just said. He can’t look away from the bar, can’t help but feel the irrational rush of jealousy he has no right to feel when the bartender preens under Harry’s attention, hooded eyes and bashful smile making for a pretty picture.

Louis knows the feeling, he experienced first hand what it feels like to be the center of Harry’s world. For someone like Louis, who’s always craved attention, being with Harry was a dream. Whenever he was telling a story or just trying to make everyone laugh with his antics, Harry was always beside him, smiling at him, looking at him like he held the moon. Like anything and everything Louis said, felt and experienced was of the utmost importance. Beside Harry, Louis felt loved.

Louis hadn’t actually realized how much their love for each other was genuine until it was over. He was too young to fully appreciate their bond, and realize how lucky they were to have found each other. Many times he tried to convince himself that he was exaggerating how wonderful his relationship with Harry was, tried to convince himself that he had a biased idea of it because it was his only relationship that had not ended in tears, harsh words and resentment. Surely his best relationship couldn’t be a one year love story while he was a teenager, right? 

And yet, despite their young age, they had been utterly, deeply, undeniably in love with each other. No one had made Louis feel the way Harry had when he looked at him, whispered his name, pressed his lips against his. Harry ruined him for everyone else. Louis is aware of that fact now.

But it was a long time ago. They haven’t seen each other in six years, not since Louis dropped Harry at the airport so Harry could catch his plane to Malibu, where his step father had been transferred for work. Anne had understood back then that despite their young age, Harry and Louis’ relationship was special, unique. And so when Harry had begged her to let him stay a couple more days in town so he could spend them with Louis, she’d agreed. The new owners of the house weren’t supposed to arrive in town for several weeks, and so Harry only had to leave the spare key to the real estate agency that had dealt with the sell of the house before leaving for Malibu.

Harry’s house had been slowly emptied during the last weeks the family spent in England, and by the time Gemma, Anne and Robin had left, the house was completely bare. Anne’s perfume still lingered in the air somehow, and without the furniture, Harry had shown Louis the damage he and Gemma had done to the place, damage that their mom used to hide with strategically placed pieces of furniture.

There was a burn mark by the window, the consequence of an eight-year old Harry who thought that he could light up a rainbow banger inside. The wooden floor had deep scratches on it, where the dining room table used to stand, courtesy of Gemma and her friends having a party without the parents knowing. The girls hadn’t bothered taking off their high heels during what had been a wild karaoke session and the scores were unmissable now that the table had been removed. Louis giggled in times with Harry’s explanations as they took a tour of the house, each rooms having its own memories, the entire place so familiar and yet so strange now that it was not filled with Harry’s family belongings.

That weekend with Harry in the empty house had been the most incredible weekend of Louis’ life. He was 18, in love with the most beautiful boy in the world and they had a house to themselves with no threat of being disturbed by nosy relatives.

Louis brought as many duvets as he could, pillows and candles so that they could make their nest in the living room for the weekend. He went as far as going through his family boxes in the attic to retrieve white Christmas lights. He had put one garland on the massive marble mantelpiece and hung another one on the opposite wall, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he carefully disposed them. The nest wasn’t perfect, Harry being the one with a knack for building forts. The candles quickly gave a charming mood to the room though, whiffs of vanilla and caramel wafting through the empty space. Harry had peppered Louis’ face with kisses when he had discovered it all, eyes wet and hands slightly trembling as he confessed that it looked like one of the settings in the romcoms he was used to watching, and he loved it. Louis had grinned and thought to himself that he would turn into the cheesiest lad in the country if it meant having Harry looking at him like that.

It was a warm summer night, but it didn’t stop them from cuddling close, wrapped up in a soft, velvety duvet that matched so perfectly with the colour of Harry’s eyes that Louis could have cried. They had spent the night kissing, whispering sweet nothings to each other. They ignored the elephant in the room, the one topic they should have been talking about. Louis had been terrified of ruining their last night, terrified of hearing something he wasn’t ready to hear from Harry. A foolish mistake he had come to bitterly regret later.

But essentially, that night had been perfect. Harry had baked Louis’ favourite chocolate chips cookies and fed him chunks with a smug smile on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Louis had picked up a bottle of raspberry flavoured sparkling wine because Harry didn’t like to drink anything else, and because “a pink drink is always a good idea, Lou.” With the absence of a fridge to keep the bottle cold, Harry had the genius idea to ask Louis to buy ice and they had plunged the bottle in Lottie’s old beach bucket after making sure that they had cleaned any sand off it.

“I wish you’d come and spend the summer with us in Malibu.” Harry had said with a pout, glazed over eyes and cheeks pink from the alcohol.

They were lying of the floor on their nest, with Harry glued to Louis’ side, his head on Louis’ chest and his fingers dancing across the ink on Louis’ right arm while Louis kept running his fingers through Harry’s chocolate curls. Jessie Ware’s album ‘Tough Love’ was playing softly on Louis’ phone, the sound quite mediocre, but enough to set a pleasant mood.

“What are you going to do if I’m not here to keep you on your toes?” Harry added with fake seriousness. 

Louis had giggled, and had pressed a wet kiss to Harry’s cheek, the pinkness deepening with the action. “I’ll probably smoke too much weed with Zayn, and we’ll convince Liam to bring us Nando’s even if he keeps saying he’s not allowed to take the food after his shift.”

Harry had snickered at that, and pressed himself closer to Louis. “Yeah, well, you better not have too much fun without me, otherwise I’ll have to come back and kick your arse for forgetting about me so soon.”

“I could never forget about you H, not in a million years.” Louis had whispered then, throat tight and voice a bit wobbly with how much he was going to miss his boy. Louis had tightened his grip on Harry, fingers pressing hard against the anchor tattoo matching his rope. Anne had freaked out when she saw it for the first time, while Gemma had been impressed with them. Harry wasn’t eighteen yet and shouldn’t have been allowed to get one, but Louis had successfully bargained with his tattoo artist who had eventually surrendered. Somehow, showing deep in their skins what they meant to each other had been easier to do than using their words. Again, Louis had understood too late how wrong they were about that one.

The first year of separation was the hardest, with the both of them realizing how much the distance and the time difference was going to be difficult to deal with. Adapting to a whole new school system and trying to make friends with people who knew each other for years turned out to be harder than Harry had anticipated. Besides, teenagers could be cruel and that was a trait of character Harry was completely bereft of. Louis felt like crying every time he had to read an email about how unhappy Harry was, how miserable he felt. Not being able to do anything about it ate him alive.

Across the Atlantic, Louis wasn’t doing much better; he was struggling with Uni, and living on his own for the first time had been far from ideal. His newfound liberty turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing, what with the lack of parental supervision. The only thing he was doing correctly was school and even that became debatable after a while. 

He had decided to go into law because it was a safe choice, but each course was making him more miserable. After a year of too many hours spent in the library cramming from exams and little to no sleep (due to late night study sessions but also wild student parties), he decided that he couldn’t keep doing this to himself. He dropped out of school, asked his boss at the comic book store for more hours, took extra shifts at the bar and decided that he wanted to teach. Or make music. or help people. At this point, he wasn’t exactly sure about anything, really.

And so, as life got naturally in the way, they started skipping those Skype calls they swore never to miss. Emails were sent once a week, then once a month and then only on special occasions. Christmas came that first year, and it was decided that the Styles family wasn’t going to come back to England after all, because Harry’s nan was quite excited with the idea of spending the holidays sipping cocktails on the beach. Louis had tried not to show how disappointed he was, only to realize months later that Harry must have mistaken the brave face for disinterest. _Probably your first big mistake_ , Louis thinks in retrospect.

They would never miss a birthday of course, but by the time Harry had turned twenty, Louis had simply sent a text, when for Harry’s eighteenth birthday he had sent a big box of every English items he knew Harry missed now that he was living in America. Phone calls were difficult to plan, and Louis was never a big fan of social media. By the time Louis had turned 22, he had not received news from Harry for six months. The thought of actually having lost Harry for good had terrified him and a week later, on New Year’s Eve, he had tried to call. Louis had “reached a number that is disconnected or that is no longer in service” and that was the end of it.

He had spent the holidays in Doncaster like every other year, and his Mum had been there to brew tea and listen to him talk like he never did with anyone else. He had let himself go with his mum, had admitted how miserable the situation was making him and how hopeless the whole ordeal seemed to be.

She tried to comfort him as much as she could, and Louis knew she was right when she said that the relationship was doomed to dwindle to nothing. They were too young to handle the distance, no matter how much they loved each other. Still, Louis felt like he had failed Harry.

 

The bartender slides a drink into Harry’s hand, and Louis watches as Harry accepts it with a grin before turning on his heels and making his way to a booth where several people are seated close together.

Seeing Harry after all this time has sobered him a little, and now the man grinding against him makes him feel uncomfortable. He detaches himself from the man's body and he spins around, offers a contrite smile to excuse himself and makes his way towards the bar. He asks for a glass of water to cool off, he pinches the fabric of his shirt away from his stomach so it doesn’t cling to his skin so uncomfortably. He can’t look away from Harry, can’t stop himself from analyzing as much as he can how he interacts with his friends.

It’s hard to reconcile the image of his Harry, the one with the broad smile and the innocent eyes, and this new version of him, physically larger, obviously more confident in his own skin than his teenage self as he tells a story enthusiastically, with big hand gestures. Louis doesn’t want to take his eyes off of him but the bartender calls him out, wanting to know if Louis needs anything else, and these ten seconds are enough for Harry to move from his spot and wander away. When Louis glances back, Harry has disappears into thin air.

 

 **The second time** Louis sees him, Harry is sitting in the pink line at Barbican, holding a book in one hand, bottom lip caught between two long fingers as he reads with furrowed eyebrows. Louis wants to scream, frustrated to no end for not being able to reach out to him. He’s standing stiffly on the platform, waiting for Harry to look up, to look at him through the dirty glass of the wagon but it doesn’t happen. Louis’s knuckles turn white with how much he’s clutching his fists, and he keeps repeating ‘look up, look up’ in his head like a mantra, like a spell of some sort. The charm doesn’t operate, and he’s distracted from his one way staring contest by the unintelligible words of the woman speaking into the metro speakers, sounding even more obnoxious to Louis than she usually does.The train leaves and Louis never hated being a yellow line commuter more than he does right now. The annoying feeling dissipates quickly though, replaced by a fondness for how much this unfortunate non-meeting reminds him of the first time he got to speak with Harry, years ago.

Harry was lying on the grass in the park next to their school, reading a book with his head on Zayn’s thigh. Louis didn’t know them back then, he just knew that all the girls and a good portion of boys wanted to date Zayn, and that Harry was considered a cool kid since they started hanging out together.

They were an unusual pair to be honest, Zayn being the mysterious new guy with tattoos and a serious nicotine addiction, yet probably the most brilliant student of his grade despite the many hours spent in the park smoking weed and drawing.

Harry was gangly, awkward and the perfect image of innocence. He had shiny curls, dimples, and he owned way too many bow ties. On Thursdays though, he’d show up with awful khakis and a knitted sweater that made him look soft and cosy. Louis had to admit, he was very partial to the lavender one. He wanted it for himself. Also, Harry never tamed his hair on those days, but simply put a scarf to keep the curls from falling in front of his eyes. Thursday had quickly become Louis’ favourite day of the week.

If Louis was being honest, he had never noticed Harry until Zayn arrived at the beginning of the year. Rumour said that they had become friends when Zayn’s family moved across the street over summer and that was that. From that point, Harry got to be under the spotlight and on Louis’ radar.

Louis was a good student, but what he excelled in and was known for at their school was his theatre and football skills. Those activities took most of his time, and when he wasn’t rehearsing for the next school play or practicing, he was at home with his sisters, in charge of making sure everyone was well fed and up to date with homework while his mother worked.

He didn’t need a boyfriend. He needed to graduate, go to college and then he’d find time to fool around whenever he wanted. He wasn’t completely inexperienced - he could thank the football summer camps for that-  but he wasn’t interested in the typical teenage drama of flirting and dating. A crush, let along a boyfriend was never something he bothered himself with.

Until Harry came into the picture.

Louis, for the past few weeks could only think about one thing and it was getting Harry’s attention. Their schedules didn’t match at all and so Louis was doomed to only catch glimpses of Harry here and there, in the hallways and sometimes in the cafeteria. It was becoming annoying.

So one day, Louis had ditched Ed (they were supposed to finish a song together) and went straight to the park after school, where he knew he’d find Styles and Malik. Louis had found a bench nearby, but not close enough for the pair to notice his presence, and he had just watched them for a while. 

The one thing that Louis noticed immediately was that Zayn was smiling, and that was a very, very rare occurrence. Usually, the new boy was always sporting a scowl on his pretty face, his demeanour detached and his eyes a bit squinted as if he was suspicious of anything and everything. Louis saw it as a way of protecting himself, from what, Louis didn’t know, but it had the merit to keep people with bad intentions away from him.

At this moment though, Zayn was completely relaxed. It showed in the way he lit his smoke and absentmindedly run a hand through Harry’s hair. He was feeling content, that much Louis knew because he wore the same expression on his face as Louis did when he was cuddled up in his couch with his mom, with the girls asleep in their beds and the TV projecting bright light in the silent living room.

_This is the face of someone who feels safe, who knows that the person beside them will never hurt them._

And that said so much about who Harry was that Louis felt a little overwhelmed.

At some point, Zayn said something Louis couldn’t decipher from the distance and Harry shot upright, book forgotten on the side and an eager expression on his face. Zayn smirked as he shrugged off his leather jacket and shoved his wrist right in front Harry’s nose. Harry was admiring Zayn’s newest tattoo with an expression of awe, while Zayn smiled smugly, cigarette dangling from his lips.   

They chatted animatedly (well at least on Harry’s part) and Louis kept looking at them, wanting to remain hidden from their stares and be seen at the same time. He wanted to be part of this conversation, wanted to know what the tattoo looked like from up close. But Harry and Zayn were in their own bubble, unbothered and oblivious.

Eventually, Louis braced himself and stood up. He marched toward them with no idea of what he was going to say, only sure about one thing, that he wanted to be included in whatever was happening over there.

Zayn and Harry noticed him coming forward and both glanced up at the same time, Harry's cheeks gradually turning pink, and Zayn with arched eyebrows, eyes dead set on Louis as he came closer.

“Hey.” Louis said awkwardly.  

“Hey, man what’s up?” Zayn asked, as nonchalantly as Louis expected him.

“Hum, nothing really, I just … Well, I’m a nosy bastard and you’re new, so I thought I’d introduce myself, you know since we go to the same school and all.”

Louis wanted to die. The ground had to swallow him deep, right the fuck now.

Zayn chuckled at that and extended a hand for Louis to shake. “That’s nice, mate. I’m Zayn.”

“Louis.” Louis said with the brightest smile he could muster, despite the embarrassment he was experiencing deep down in his guts. He redirected his attention toward Harry, who had his head ducked down, fingers playing with a handle of grass.

“And you’re Harry, right ?” Louis asked gently.

Harry’s head shot up at the mention of his name, cheeks pinker than when Louis had come and interrupted minutes ago.

 _Lovely_ , Louis thought.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Harry squawked.

Louis smiled at him, entirely endeared, and he crouched down on the grass, his right hand coming fast to his inner jacket pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to the boys (only Harry declined) and as Zayn extended his hand to take it, Louis finally got a look at the tattoo.

“This is sick!” He said as he pointed the tattoo, eyes a little wide. “Must had hurt like a bitch though.”

“A bit, yeah.” Zayn shrugged. “But I’m really happy with the result so. Worth it.” Zayn took a drag of his smoke and his eyes zeroed in on Louis’s collar where his tattoos could be seen. Louis followed the movement and automatically ducked his head down, the ink peeking from under his shirt.

“Got a few myself. I love tattoos.”  

The conservation started from there and delved on many things afterwards, like Zayn’s obsession with astronomy, Louis’ last football game, and their shared love for music. Louis learned that Zayn could play the guitar and that Harry started playing the piano when he was 7. Louis felt a bit lame while admitting that he wasn’t playing any instruments (yet) and instead confessed that he loved to write songs and sing them while Ed played. The way Harry had pressed his hand against his knee comfortingly, assuring him that it was far from nothing and that he couldn’t wait to hear his songs had put the smile back on Louis’ face instantly.

The sun eventually set and they waved goodbyes with the promise of doing something together soon. From this day on, not only did Zayn become one of his best friends, but Harry also turned out to be Louis’ first love.

 

 

 **The third time** it happens, Louis has to admit that he’s being a coward. It’s very early in the morning, and he’s sitting at a table in a coffee shop, hot tea mug secured in his hand, half eaten caramel muffin on the side. The smell of coffee and buttery pastries fill the air, while people chat amongst themselves quietly, as if there’s a silent and common agreement not to raise their voices at eight in the morning. He could stay here all day, watching people emerging from their slumber, working on their computers or simply waiting for someone to join them for breakfast. Anything would be better than going to work. It’s delivery day at the shop, and vinyls by the hundred weigh a lot. He doesn’t like lifting heavy things any more than Zayn does, so yeah, he’s stalling. 

Harry has just entered the coffee shop and he’s joining the line of desperate souls craving coffee at this ungodly hour. Louis shrinks in on himself because, no not today, not when he’s wearing the ugliest pair of sweatpants he owns, the most boring oversized sweater and thick framed glasses. No, just no. The idea of being spotted makes him queasy to no end.

Harry looks divine, even from the distance and Louis, hidden under his cup not so subtly, ogles him with no shame for the ten minutes Harry spends in the coffee shop. He’s all bundled up in a thick coat, the white collar contrasting with the deep blue of the fabric.  He looks comfy and soft, eyes a bit tired and cheeks pink from the harsh winter cold. He’s lolling his head back and forth to the music playing through his earbuds, his hands clutching a black leather notebook tight. The cover looks worn out, the item clearly used and loved, and Louis desperately wants to know what’s scribbled inside of it.

That kind of perfection, all wrapped in one single man, is probably the worst thing that could be thrown at Louis this early in the morning. Especially since he has been thinking of Harry non-stop since that night at the club.

Harry finally makes it to the counter, takes one earbud off, and offers his best smile to the barista who melts on the spot. He leaves a minute or so after, once again completely oblivious of Louis’ presence in his vicinity. Louis exhales a deep breath once he passes the threshold of the shop and allows himself to let another memory fill out from his mind.

They were in a coffee shop, just like this one. Louis was in a similar outfit since he was cramming for their last tests before the Christmas break. Harry sat in a booth across Louis, drinking a pumpkin latte and highlighting keywords on his immaculate revision sheets. They were exhausted and stressed, but they were together. Back then that’s all that mattered.

Louis had been head deep into his book, his glasses sliding on his nose when Harry had nudged his feet under the table once, twice, and then a third time with more force than necessary, until Louis finally glanced up.

“Can I help you with something?” Louis had asked with a frown.

Harry had leaned down over the table to whisper something that Louis hadn’t caught at first. His attention was now solely focused on Harry and the blush that had crept up on his face.

“Come again H?”

“I think we should do it.”

“What?” Louis said innocently as he tried to keep a serious face. He knew where this was going, from the way Harry looked excited, but also eager and nervous.. At least he hoped he did.  

Harry wiggled in his seat uncomfortably. He watched left and right, just to be sure no one was listening, before leaning further.

“You know… IT.” 

“You’re going to be a bit more specific, love.” A bit of teasing never hurt anyone, and it was so easy to rile Harry up sometimes, he couldn’t never pass up a good occasion to do so.

“Oh, come on, Louis, you know exactly what I mean.” Harry retorts, rolling his eyes.

Sex. Harry meant sex. Louis had ignored the tingling in his stomach in favour of pinning Harry down with a fake incredulous stare.

“Where is this even coming from?” Louis had chuckled, surprised.

Of course, he had thought about it, long before they were official. Harry,  _his boyfriend_ , was gorgeous, kind and Louis was so in love with him it kept him awake at night sometimes. Irrational thoughts of losing him invaded his mind for absolutely no reason, long before Robin’s transfer had been a sure thing. At this point in the relationship, there really wasn’t anything to worry about. Nevertheless, whenever Louis had those scary thoughts, he just closed his eyes and replayed in his mind the shared kisses of the day, the casual touches and the bright smiles thrown his way. That’s how much Harry made Louis lose his mind.

Needless to say, sex in general was always on Louis’s mind, but since he had started dating Harry, it had become an obsession. His biggest problem back in those days was to find a way to rub one off at home without someone interrupting him, or worse walking on him. 

Harry had been a bit shy with physical contact at first, but Louis had been careful and so, so gentle. It hadn’t taken long for Harry to actually turn into a human version of a koala, clinging onto Louis at all times, always eager to touch him somehow. Nevertheless, he hadn’t wanted to pressure Harry in any way, he had wanted him to set the pace. 

Zayn had said once that Louis had a lot to do with this new version of Harry, thanks to the constant praise and encouragement but Louis had disagreed. Just because he had chosen to let his hair grow along with Harry didn’t mean he was the reason behind the beautiful making of one Harry Styles.  

“Lou, you’re with me?” Harry had asked then, Louis’ silence obviously making him nervous. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry if you don’t want to, I just-” 

“No! Of course, I’m... yes!” Louis cleared his throat, palms clammy and heart beating wild in his chest as he leaned over, only a couple inches now separating them. “God, I want to, it’s just… You took me by surprise, is all. My brain just short-circuited for a second there.”

Harry’s smile had returned then, the dimple making a guest appearance just for Louis to see. Louis had taken his hands in his and gently brushed his fingers against Harry’s knuckles before pressing kisses on each of them. When he had gazed up, Harry’s cheeks were the loveliest shade of pink, and Louis had realized maybe a little too late that the action might have been a bit too intimate for a coffee shop.

“I think we should talk about it though.” He had added as he brushed away his fringe with one hand, the other unwilling to let go of his boyfriend, “and now is not exactly the perfect time.” Louis has whispered as he looked around them to prove his point.

“Okay.” Harry had pouted. “Later then.”

Louis had chuckled at that and gone back to his books, but he hadn’t been able to fully concentrate. He had to read the same paragraph three times until he had given up, collected his books and urged Harry out of the coffee shop. Louis was determined to leave, practically dragging Harry along with him. Harry had looked so satisfied with how flustered he had made him that Louis had to poke him in the ribs several times on the way to his house, making Harry giggle more than anything. But an hour later, as they had cuddled up close under Louis’ covers and said “I love you” for the first time, Louis had easily forgotten how annoying his boyfriend could be sometimes.

 

Louis smiles to himself, and as he reaches the counter to give the mug back to the barista, he lets himself dwell on how Harry used to be sweet and caring, and overall perfect, at least in Louis’ eyes.

He probably hasn’t changed that much, or so Louis hopes. As Louis makes his way to the little shop he owns with Zayn, he realizes he’s afraid of finding out. If Harry has lost his sense of humour, or the kindness Louis always associated with him, he would be crushed. Maybe it’s better not to find out. Maybe fate is keeping them apart for a reason.

When he finally enters the shop, it's with Zayn cursing at him for being late. His best friend must really know him well because when Louis grunts in response, he doesn’t pry. And at the end of the day, when Zayn drags him to his flat, feeds him and cuddles without a fight for once, Louis knows Zayn suspects something happened. But he doesn’t ask still, and Louis is grateful, because as long as he doesn’t talk about it, Harry never happened.

 

 **It’s** been two weeks since their last non-encounter and Louis almost succeeded in not thinking about it. About them. About how he never seems to fit with any of the guy he dates. He works his arse off at the shop, much to Zayn’s delight, and it helps keeping his thoughts in check. Evenings are spent quietly in the comfort of home, distracting himself by playing video games or watching movies. It helps avoiding his Hazzard thoughts as he likes to call them, but the second he slips in between his sheets, ready for a good night sleep, it all comes back to him. Some nights, he wants to believe that eventually Harry will come back one way or another. Other nights, he just brushes the fantasy away as he reminds himself London is a big city and Harry probably doesn’t want to reconnect, otherwise he would have done so by now.

He’s mixing himself a drink in the kitchen of a stranger, pleasantly buzzed while he shakes his hips to the beat when he feels eyes on him. The funny thing is, he shouldn’t even be here. Friday nights usually consists on watching some show on Netflix with a nice cold beer, a greasy take out meal and sometimes Zayn and Ed. He’s an adult now, and his liver can’t take going out both nights so for the past year, he has adopted a system of one night of self care and one night of dancing on tables till he’s off of his face. So far, so good.

But earlier in the day, Zayn approached Louis as he was reorganizing the EDM section of the shop, all feline in his moves and an innocent expression on his face Louis knew all too well. After a bit of prodding, Zayn convinced Louis to meet their dealer at some party so he could go on a date and not worry about their weekend supplies. Louis whined about it dramatically, because that’s Zayn’s mission, not his and besides Louis doesn’t even know the guy. He kept ranting about how _his best friend_ was ruining his well-perfected system until Zayn rolled his eyes, utterly unimpressed and used the ultimate weapon: doe eyes, eyelashes batting in the prettiest way and pouty lips. Louis let himself be annoying for another moment and finally when the rant ended, Zayn pushed a twenty pound note into Louis’ fist and turned away, on his way back to the front of the shop and far away from Louis. 

What Louis didn’t expect from this Friday errand was to actually hit it off instantly with the lad Zayn was buying from. Louis was offered a beer, and then a hit and next thing he knows, he’s staying at the lad’s place for a party with complete strangers, going wild on the booze and having a crazy karaoke contest.

Harry showing up in the midst of people still turns out to be the biggest surprise of the evening though. 

Louis has just perfected his drink, the balance between gin, lemon and lemonade finally perfect, and he’s dancing on his own, eyes closed and a small satisfied smile on his face. He doesn’t want to be in the living room, the kitchen is much less crowded and he can smoke by the wide open window in there so he doesn’t bother moving elsewhere.

“Louis?” Louis hears the timid yet incredulous voice. “What… What are you doing here?”

Louis slowly opens his eyes, his heart beating twice as fast as it did a minute ago, because of course he knows, _he knows_ whose voice this is. It may be huskier, deeper than when they were teenagers but still. _What the hell ?_

“Hi.” Louis utters a bit breathless, eyes now wide open as he takes Harry in. He can’t contain his smile, and he must look like a loon with the glassy eyes and ruffled hair but he doesn’t care one bit.

Harry is wearing a thick grey coat, a black beanie and a scarf that covers half of his face and he still manages to look gorgeous. He disantengles the scarf promptly, finally allowing Louis to take in his glorious face, lips, cheeks and nose tip pink from the cold. It takes a lot to resist the urge to jump into his arms and provide warmth. The beanie comes off next, and fuck if Louis isn’t a fan of this haircut. He used to love the bandanas and the wild curls, don’t get him wrong, but shorter hair shows off how defined Harry’s jaw really is, and his eyes are no longer hidden behind a curly fringe. All in all, he’s the most beautiful boy Louis has ever seen. His face lost the chubbiness it used to have in his youth, and it’s like he’s been crafted in marble, all sharp angles and soft, clear skin, green sparkling eyes focused on Louis intensely. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry repeats as he hangs up his clothes to the rack coat, eyes never leaving Louis. He’s wearing a white button up shirt and a dark grey suit, and Louis is four seconds from weeping. The suit jacket comes off as well and really, God was being extra careful and inspired the day he designed Harry Styles. Maybe Louis should call Harry’s mom and thank her as well. 

Harry makes his way around the counter table, oblivious to Louis’ internal turmoil, before making a final stop in front of his ex-boyfriend, leaving only a few inches between them. Louis hates them. They’re both obviously stunned by the odd coincidence of finding themselves in the same room after all these years, but Louis can tell they’re both writhing with excitement inside. 

“I… Hum. I needed weed? The guy who lives here is Zayn’s dealer. Very nice lad by the way.” Louis grins awkwardly. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I live here! Moved in last week actually… Niall’s my roommate. And he sells weed apparently.”

Louis grins again, but doesn’t say anything, he just keeps looking at Harry. He’s pretty drunk, and he doesn’t know how much time he has so he shamelessly stares, eager to catalog every single change. There are a few wrinkles here and there that Louis isn’t familiar with, a tiny scar on his left cheekbone, right under the eye and Louis is fascinated. It might be the alcohol talking, but Louis wants to press a finger against it, feel it under his tip, and maybe cup Harry’s jaw and kiss him senseless. Definitely drunk, then.

“How come you arrive at your party so late Harold?” Louis blurts out. “It’s not really good hosting, if you ask me.”

Harry laughs softly, “I had to work. I got a job in a restaurant in Notting Hill, started just last week." 

“Must be fancy since you pulled off  the suit.”

“I’m not a waiter, I play the piano.” Harry explains as he move toward the counter to grab a plastic wine glass. “And it is fancy.”

Something in the way Harry reluctantly looks away from him tells Louis that he’s not completely sure that this is happening, that Louis is really here in his kitchen, all tipsy and high. Like he needs to keep his eyes on him otherwise he’d disappear into thin air.

“Well, look at you, Harold. You’re a fancy musician now.” Louis raises his cup in a celebratory toast, except the alcohol makes him clumsy, and he loses his balance. He tips his drink a bit too much to the side, the cold sugary liquid ending on Harry’s sleeve, effectively ruining his shirt.

“Oh my God!” Louis shrieks in horror. “I’m so sorry, H, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright Lou.” Harry reassures him. He looks more amused than mad, and Louis sighs. “I was going to get changed anyway.” He takes a couple of wipes to clean up the counter, but his sleeve is soaked with gin, liquid dripping in between his fingers and making a mess anyway.

“I’ll be back in five minutes, okay? Please don’t leave.” Harry says, tone a bit frantic.

Louis nods, still stunned but Harry offers a smile and it tunes out the feeling a bit. With Harry gone to his bedroom, Louis trades the gin and tonic for a glass of water and goes to the living room to find a spot to settle on. The party is slowly dying down, it’s getting pretty late and Louis is sure that within the hour, everybody will have left for the comfort of their beds. Niall has put on a much calmer playlist and most people are scattered around the flat, having late night, drunken conversations they probably won’t remember in the morning. Louis can’t help but wish for them to leave as soon as possible, the idea of having Harry all to himself quite tempting.

He’s not going to keep drinking, and he regrets all those shots he did with Niall earlier. He needs to be as sober as possible for this, for Harry. At the very least, the drinks made him less nervous than he would have been if sober. So there’s that. It doesn’t keep a familiar energy, a thrill in his veins to pound knowing Harry is right in this flat, getting changed in his bedroom.

As promised, Harry returns five minutes later, the suit replaced with a pair of sweatpants, a long sleeve Fleetwood Mac shirt and thick framed glasses. He looks so much more like the teenager Louis fell in love with,  Louis’ heart aches with nostalgia and want. 

They sit together and spend the next hour or so catching up, Harry slowly sipping on a glass of white wine and Louis sticking to water. They keep exchanging fond looks and casual touches, although nothing is casual for Louis when it comes to Harry. The smallest skin on skin contact burns like a bonfire, the most innocent wink unleashes an army of bees in the pit of his stomach. Conversation flows, laughter spills out of Louis like an overflowed river, and it’s almost too much. Having his boy back is a lot. Louis is just so happy they’re still so much in sync despite the years apart.  

Louis learns that Harry has been back in England for two months now. Much to his surprise, Harry tells him that he graduated in costume design, fashion having become quite an obsession during uni, and that he’s currently working for small theatres across town. The plays he creates the costumes for are not very renowned, but it gives him more liberty with the creative process and he’s having the time of his life so far. The gig as a pianist is just a weekend thing, and sometimes when he comes home dead on his feet with little to no tip, he thinks about quitting but 1) he needs to pay the rent, and 2) he can’t afford a piano and doesn’t want to stop playing altogether.

Louis gives him a recap of the last years as well and Harry is delighted to learn that Louis and Zayn have opened their own record store. They actually started talking about it long before Harry had left, but it seemed like such an unrealistic, distant dream back then, like something they could fantasize about but had zero chance of happening.

“After that first year in Uni, I was so lost, didn’t know what to do with myself.” Louis explains softly.

The flat is quiet, the guests have been gone for a while now, some in more inebriated states than others. Even Niall had waved them goodbye around 2, before going to his room with a yawn, pink cheeks and glassy blue eyes.

“I thought about teaching, and then I wanted to be a sports journalist, I could picture myself ranting about football on air, you know? But nothing felt quite right in the end. And like, Zayn was in an even darker place than I was? We were living in a shitty flat, we were working together as well, in a dive bar in Shoreditch that we both hated so, so much.” Louis laughs at the memory of spending evenings with Zayn, trashing their boss, cursing drunk customers. “Anyway, one day we’re complaining about how we hate our lives, and next thing I know, Zayn is drafting a business plan for our own store. We opened shop, like, a year and a half later? Took some time, but we finally had a goal so it made all the other shit bearable.”

Louis' rant gets interrupted by a rumbling sound coming from Harry’s stomach, and he blushes as he brings a hand to his belly.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t eaten a lot tonight, I usually grab something when I come back but my plans were a bit side tracked tonight.”

Louis snorts. “Yeah, I bet Curly, with people reappearing from your past and trying to soak your clothes with alcohol.”

Harry laughs as he stands up, gesturing for Louis to follow him to the kitchen.

“I’m going to make some tea.” Harry says as he searches through the kitchen cabinet. “You want some?”

“Always, you know me.” 

“Yeah, I do.”

Harry glances over, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed like he’s conflicted or something but his attention is solely focused on Louis, who’s so tempted to have him release his lip with his thumb. Before he can do anything, though, before his body betrays how much he craves for Harry to touch him, Harry closes the gap between them and crashes their bodies together in a fierce embrace, his hand settling possessively around Louis’ shoulders in a tight grip. He lets out a deep sigh, his body going lax with the comfort of the hug.

“I can’t believe you’re here, Lou.” Harry says, disbelief coloring his words.

“Me neither.” Louis replies with a huff. 

Louis’ entire body relaxes at that, and he lets his head rest against Harry’s chest as he lets out a shaky breath. Harry is not just bigger than Louis now, he’s also taller. Louis used to be the one protecting him from the world, but now it’s like the roles have been reversed and it’s Harry that cages Louis into a protective bubble. He kinda likes it a lot.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” Louis hears himself say, and it hurts knowing how much he means it.

Harry buries his nose in the crook of Louis’ neck, and Louis can tell Harry is smiling, the whiskers grazing the sensitive skin making him shiver. “I think I have a pretty good idea how much, Lou.”

They stay like that for a while, not saying anything, words stuck in Louis’ throat. When Harry finally breaks the embrace, albeit reluctantly, he puts the kettle on and cracks a bag of beet chips before stuffing his face with snacks, his cheeks full and his eyes gleaming with mirth. Louis can’t help but laugh at him, his crystal clear laugh muffled when the kettle goes off. Harry rolls up his sleeves to make their tea, uncovering tattoos Louis never saw on him and that effectively shuts him up. Louis watches him move in his own space, mesmerized by the way the fabric of his shirt moves against his skin. How does one go from absolute dork eating snacks to sex on legs model torturing any souls with at least one good eye? Life is terribly unfair if you ask Louis. 

Louis hops onto the counter, feet dangling as he retrieves his mug from Harry’s hands, and he tries his best to contain how stupidly touched he is that Harry remembers how he likes his tea, no sugar and a splash of milk.

They make it to the living room once Harry is done with pouring his own mug and they plop down on the sofa, their bodies only a couple of inches apart but not close enough for Louis’ taste. Louis focuses his attention on his mug, blows on the surface to cool his tea down. Despite the fact that they have just spent the evening catching up, it’s just not enough yet. Sure, Louis is glad to know about Harry’s degree, which countries he visited in the last six years and why he cut his hair (charity, really? As if Harry wasn’t already too much to handle for him to add philanthropy to his resume).

But what he wants to know above all, is if Harry had carried the same hurt Louis has for all of those years they spent apart. If he’s been haunted with the ghost of their relationship too. He wants to know if Harry fell in love again, if someone has managed to learn the shape of his body better than Louis did. The thought makes him sad and angry at the same time, so he refrains those ugly emotions, those ugly little monsters crawling their way up his throat. He opts for a less loaded question, although it all goes down the same road in the end.

“So, tell me, did you leave a poor American boy broken-hearted when you left?”

Harry snorts, “No, not really. Haven’t been in a relationship for years.”  

“Really?” Louis asks, genuinely curious. “Why?” 

“It just- I tried, after… After us. But it never felt right.” 

Louis breaks into a grin then and ducks his head down. Harry has always been better than him at expressing his feelings, he’s always so honest with people. Louis' heart misses a beat at the admission, only to grow two size bigger the next second. Harry still cares.

“I know exactly what you mean, H. Trust me, I do.”

Harry beams at him, the dimple showing up full force, he takes Louis’ hand in his much larger one, and Louis feels like he’s finally coming home. Harry looks beautiful, cosy and soft, his free hand clutching his mug, his knees brought to his chest, his smile so genuine and familiar. Louis gets lost for a second, he imagines what it would be like to spend his nights with Harry on this very sofa, being the one that makes him his cup of tea with one sugar.

“I’m having a hard time believing anyone would be willing to let go of you easy.” Harry confesses.

Louis chuckles and grips Harry’s end tighter. 

“More like I never let anyone get a good hold on me, I guess.” 

“Why?” Harry asks softly.

“I … I had boyfriends. Lots of one night stands when I still worked as a bartender but… like you said it never felt right.” 

 _It never felt like this,_ Louis thinks.

They stay silent for a while, just looking at each other, green eyes piercing through Louis’ soul, unraveling secrets and deep desires. Louis hopes that Harry can discern the truth, the only truth that counts. There wasn’t anyone for Louis but Harry. 

“Do you want to go now?” Harry blurts suddenly, and Louis gets whiplash. 

“I mean, it’s late I guess, I don’t want to be a bother-”

“No, no, no! That’s not what I meant Lou, come on! I meant, like, you can go if you want but maybe you could stay?”

Louis lets out a small giggle, because they’re both so ridiculous, so eager to erase the distance six years apart inevitably created that they can barely contain themselves.

“I’ll stay, if you don’t mind.” Louis winks, and then “but I don’t put out on the first night Styles, I’m warning you.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry snickers. “I just don’t want to let you go, is all.” He adds before clearing his throat, a pretty pink blush on his face. “Come on, I’m exhausted.”

It should be awkward, or at the very least weird, but it isn’t, not one bit.  Louis can’t remember the last time he felt this happy. Harry leads them to his bedroom, before going to the bathroom and Louis is left in his space for a couple of minutes. He takes everything in, from the giant dresser to the pictures pinned to the wall and the sewing machine by the desk. There are a few candles scattered all around the room, vanilla from what Louis guesses, and a bright pink velvet armchair covered in different fabrics and clothes. Louis can distinguish a silky purple skirt, a red jacket with silver sequins on the sleeves, but the rest is just a heap of clothes. The sight brings a smile to Louis’ face; just imagining Harry spending his time creating outfits from scratch, sewing and drawing his patterns makes Louis so happy.

He hears Harry enter the room more than he sees him, and he goes to the window so he can close the shutters. Louis hesitates for a second but eventually takes off his jeans and socks so he can sleep in his shirt and boxers only, and he slips under the covers with a sigh. He’s not drunk anymore but the alcohol is taking its toll on him, and his eyelids weigh a ton. Harry joins him a moment later and they lay on their side, bodies close but not enough to touch, blue eyes staring into green ones, unwilling to break contact.

“I’m so glad you came tonight.” Harry whispers, fingertips grazing Louis’ waist lightly.

“Me too.” Louis smiles softly. “Although I feel like I would have found you anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, hum, I came here for the weed but if Zayn had come instead of me, which by the way, was the original plan, he would have stayed. You would have seen him.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. I don’t know if Zayn has changed much but let’s be real, He would have smoked one with Niall and left. It’s not like he’s a crowd pleaser or anything.” 

“You’re right." A pause, a heartbeat and then a quiet admission, "but there’s something I haven’t told you yet. ”

Harry frowns but doesn't say anything, he knows Louis enough to know that there’s no good in rushing him.

“For the past month, I kept seeing you around? Once in a club, another time in the subway… It kind of feels to me that we were meant to meet again." Louis licks his lips, his eyes tracing the swallows peaking out from his shirt. Mere seconds pass as he gathers up all his courage to just dive in, to try his best to be as blunt and as honest as Harry can be. "That's what it feels like to me, anyway. Sorry for being a huge sap. Aren’t I? You can tell me, it's okay if it's too-” 

Harry scoots closer, the distance between their bodies now nonexistent but the contact light, and he presses his forehead against Louis’, his eyes closing, his breath fanning over Louis’ lips as it sends electricity coursing through Louis’ veins. 

“What if we are? Is that a bad thing?” Harry whispers. 

“No, not a bad thing at all.” 

Louis doesn't really know who dives in first, maybe they both do at the same time, but the second his lips touch Harry’s, it's only bliss, and nothing else matters. His whole face tingles, his body gets hotter by the second but he doesn’t want it to ever stop. He missed this feeling so much, kissing someone with so much intent and yet softness. The kisses are delicate, featherlight and sweet, they don’t necessarily lead to something more. Louis’ hand finds its way to Harry’s lower back and Harry groans against his lips when Louis pushes gently yet firmly so they’re connected from head to toe. Harry slides a leg in between Louis’ thighs, and it’s Louis' turn to moan.

“I missed you so much, Lou.” Harry says, breathless between kisses. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this again. I never want to stop touching you.”

“Then don’t.” Louis whispers. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

Louis freezes the second the words come out, panic surging up hard as he waits for Harry to say something, anything. A second passes (although it feels like a whole minute for Louis) and he is about to withdraw, apologize for coming on too strong, but Harry anchors him against his body.

“I won’t. I swear.”

Louis lets out a loud sigh of relief, he believes Harry, he really does. It’s like the planets have aligned now, Louis is secure in his life, Harry is back in England for good. There's no reason for this to not work out now, he's so sure of it. Louis can tell as he lets his hands explore Harry’s body, as he kisses him deep that Harry feels the same.

When the barrier of fabric becomes unbearable, Harry takes it on himself to get rid of his clothes and Louis’ shirt, leaving them in nothing but their underwear. The delicious friction between their bodies is driving Louis mad with desire but he keeps it under control. He doesn’t want to rush, he wants to savour every second. He’s lying on top of Harry, and as he leaves trails of kisses on every inch of skin, he can’t help but whisper soft praises. He wants Harry to know that he loved his teenage self, but that he can tell already the adult one is as perfect as he imagined it to be. He traces the unknown ink with the tip of his tongue as if he’s got all the time in the world, bites the still present love handles, whispers into Harry’s ear how much he missed worshipping his body. Harry is shaking under Louis’ touch and each moan is short and breathless. Louis thrums with satisfaction, knowing he’s the one making Harry sound like that.

Harry gives as he good as he gets, and every one of his moves weakens Louis’ heart. He’s so soft in the way he kisses his knuckles, kneads his bum like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. There’s also bruising kisses and teasing scratches, dirty words and loving ones and they don’t stop until the sun is showing and their eyelids are so heavy they can barely look at each other. They silently agree on not doing more, and Louis is thankful. He’s not drunk anymore but he doesn’t want any alcohol in his system for when he surrenders completely to Harry. His mind needs to be clear, his heart open and his brain fully functional.

Eventually, Harry detaches their lips to connect with kisses the freckles on Louis’ shoulder he knows so well, before resting his head on Louis’ chest. Louis’ heartbeat is steady, and it slowly lulls Harry to sleep. Louis gives in to exhaustion a while later, a smile on his face and the feeling of being complete again. There’s so much they need to talk about it, but Louis isn't afraid. Tonight was perfect, beyond everything he could have asked for. Harry is right by his side, as he should be, and Louis plans on keeping him forever this time around.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one, D ! Can't wait to read what you have in store for us ! xx
> 
> [Here's a fic post ](http://sweetstrawberryheadache.tumblr.com/post/182014467591/wait-for-me-to-come-home-harry-looks-nothing) **if you wanna make me happy and spread the love <3**


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